Description

I watched Darlington Nnadozie, the officer leading the bomb squad, set up his equipment. He was a young officer in his prime. His lean frame made him look like an athlete rather than a police officer. We knew each other, though our work did not often bring us together. Mostly i dealt with people who were shot, stabbed, or poisoned. Rarely were my homicides the result of an explosion. The average homicide Nigerian could not afford to bomb anyone, and blowing someone up is very expensive and requires planning. Most murders are impulsive and done on the cheap, with whatever is at hand: a knife, a hammer, a fist. Bombs usually mean organization and advance planning and money. I walked over as he struggled into his coveralls to start his job. Hello, Darlighton, I said, Nice morning to be outside, eh/ We shook hands. What do we have here? He shrugged. Five to six more hours of hard work. Can't tell you anything worthwhile yet. Maybe you'll want to go and interview some witnesses, or drink some beer, or whatever it is you do Beer/ Fine with me. Though Akpan might not approve. I'd rather be in my office than crawl through rubble. I'm happier interviewing witnesses. Even when they lie a lot He shrugged again. Will you bring me back a beer, at least/ What makes you think I'm coming back?